Page 19 of Killer Clone

The two of them locked eyes, and Tripp blinked first. “All right, fine. What do you want to know?”

Hagen took a deep breath. “What was he studying?”

Tripp shrugged yet again. “I dunno. History, I think. We didn’t talk much. I’m out a lot. He wasn’t. We didn’t see much of each other. And what I saw of him was too much, you ask me.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“Wouldn’t say I didn’t like him. Nothing to like or not like, you know. Just sort of a nothing person.”

That was too much. Hagen fumed. “You better change your attitude, kid. You don’t speak ill of the dead. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

Tripp rolled his eyes. “If he wasn’t lying there with some history book, he was usually on his phone or something. He was boring, man. A gold-plated geek.”

Hagen turned and took a seat on the edge of Patrick’s bed. From his position, all he could see was Jake Tripp and his stuff and his mess. Tripp left little space for a roommate to make his own.

“Who were his friends?”

The shrug returned. “No idea. Honestly, man. Don’t think he had any. Not in the real world anyway.” He chuckled.

Ander kicked the pile of clothes from under his feet. “What does that mean?”

“Just that no one ever came here, man. The only people I ever saw him talking to were, like, on his phone or online.”

Hagen’s interest rose. “So he did talk to people. You hear what he said?”

“Naw, he didn’t talk to anyone. He just texted. Like on some messaging app or something.”

Ander opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet. There were more pens, a small bottle of ibuprofen, and a short stack of plain paper. He shook his head and looked at Hagen. “Nothing of any interest.”

Hagen peered at Jake. “Where are his phone and computer?”

Another beep blared out. This time from Tripp’s person. The punk pulled his phone from his pocket and started texting.

Hagen could hardly believe it. “Where are the phone and computer?”

“What? Whose phone and computer?”

Hagen clenched his fists to stop himself from smacking Tripp across the head. But, once again, he remembered to breathe.

“Patrick’s phone and computer. Although if you want to give us yours, as well, we’d be happy to take them.”

Tripp’s head jerked up. “You’re not taking my stuff. I’ll call my dad. You can’t do that.”

Hagen leaned against the closet door, not even needing to get up from the bed to do so. No matter the money, dorm rooms still always managed to be tiny. Tripp was right, of course, they couldn’t take his computer and phone, not without a better reason than Jake Tripp being a world-class douche. But at least they had his attention.

“You said Patrick was always on his computer and his phone. Where are they?”

The screen beeped again. “How the heck would I know?”

Ander eyed Hagen then glared at Tripp. “We’re going to go through Patrick’s stuff now.”

Tripp lowered his phone. “Just don’t touch anything of mine. You can’t do that.”

Hagen and Ander searched Patrick’s bedside table and desk. They looked through his sheets and under his mattress and bed. They rifled through his closet and searched the small backpack that hung behind the door that Tripp identified as Patrick’s.

But the phone and the computer weren’t there.

Tripp glanced at them, then back down at his screen, his burrito still half-eaten. “The cops already searched there, you know.”

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